She was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by a paunchy photographer.
She bought drinks, she and the photographer made their way through crowds to a table nearby, the quartet watching her cautiously as she approached.
She was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.
"-didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them sights... what nonsense, he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? "Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman." Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo, we just need to find a story to fit it---"
"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" Harry said loudly. A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widened behind her jewelled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.
"Harry!' She said, beaming. 'How lovely! Why don't you come and join-?"
"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick,' Harry said furiously, "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"
Rita Skeeter raised her heavily pencilled eyebrows.
"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-"
"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry shouted, "There's nothing wrong with him!" The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the counter, apparently oblivious to the fact that flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.
Rita Skeeter's smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her 'Quick-Quotes Quill,' and said,
"How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"
That annoyed Lucifer greatly, but Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade. Warm foam sloshed over her knuckles, dripping like acid onto the wood, "You horrible woman!" She yelled through gritted teeth, "You don't care, do you, anything for a story! And anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman-"
"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," Skeeter said coldly, and Lucifer was standing up when she uttered her next words, "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... not that it needs it... and maybe, just maybe, when those grow in and you have guys looking at you, you'll understand what I mean, Little Miss Flat-chest."
The look on Hermione's face was enough for him to lose control for a moment.
'Crack!'
The front door to the pub suddenly exploded out into snow, allowing cold air to sweep into the building, a biting chill that extinguished the nearby candles. Lucifer's hands were clenched into fists as he stared coldly right at Rita Skeeter.
The chatter in the pub died instantly, even more darkening the place, but his glowing 'faint' red eyes were impossible to miss as he walked towards Skeeter.
She had a smug look on her face, thinking he wouldn't do anything, but she didn't realize who she was dealing with. As Lucifer walked, people scrambled back out of fear, chairs scraping harshly against the stone floor.
When he was close enough, her photographer began snapping photos, but the camera suddenly exploded in his face, he let out a wet gurgling shriek, as it had lodged a few pieces of hot metal shrapnel embedded into his cheeks and nose, the concussive force instantly scorching his eyebrows off, Bozo screamed and ran out of building, tripping over his own tripod in his haste to reach the exit.
As Lucifer stopped right at the edge of Skeeter's chair, and he leaned forward, "Say it again."
"Well, what do we have here?" Skeeter said in as best of a calm voice as she could muster after what happened to her photographer.
Her 'Quick-Quotes Quill' burst into flames, a heap of ash was the only evidence left, which too went away with the strong wind, "Say it again, or your crocodile handbag is next, with all of its contents."
She glanced at the terrified patrons, looking for an audience, trying to reclaim her power. "What?" Rita spat, forcing a sharp, nasty laugh. "Calling your little girlfriend there 'Little Miss Flat-ch—'"
'Whack!' The sound of the slap echoed through the ruined pub like a gunshot. Lucifer's hand moved faster than the human eye could follow. The impact was brutal. Skeeter's head snapped violently to side with a sickening pop of her neck. Blood instantly sprayed from her split lip, splattering across her neat notepad.
Across the room, Hermione watched, her initial humiliation turning into a dark satisfaction. She slammed her empty butterbeer tankard down onto the wood, her voice cutting through panic like a blade. "Don't stop on my account, Lucifer, make sure she remembers it..."
"You listen to me, you pathetic cunt--" Before she could even scream, Lucifer grabbed her by the jaw, his fingers sinking deep into her flesh until her bones creaked under the pressure. He forced her face up to his.
"He's mad! Someone call the Aurors!" A wizard near the fireplace whimpered, pressing himself flat against the wall.
"Shut your mouth if you want to keep your tongue," Harry hissed back at the wizard, though he himself looked completely horrified, his hand gripping Ron's shoulder for support, who just stared, completely paralyzed, realizing that whatever Lucifer was, it wasn't 'human.'
"--Hermione is my girlfriend," Lucifer growled, each word dripping with lethal intent, "No one insults her in front of me and gets away unscathed, so if you say one more thing to or about her that isn't nice, I will rip your skin from your body and feed what's left of the screaming meat to my pet Hounds," he said darkly, causing everyone in the pub to involuntarily shudder, including the bushy haired girl, "now get the 'fuck out."
A collective, involuntary shudder ran through every single person hiding in dark pub. The suffocating weight of his malice made it hard to breathe.
Before Skeeter had a chance to stand up, he put his foot on the edge of her chair, and kicked her back with enough force to send her through the solid stone wall of 'the Three Broomsticks.' The masonry exploded outward in a cloud of mortar and heavy rocks, throwing her body violently into deep snowdrifts outside.
Her expensive crocodile handbag flew out right after her, spilling its contents into the dirt and slush.
Lucifer stood at edge of the jagged, gaping hole in the wall. His chest heaved as he drew in deep, freezing breaths of the winter air, crimson glow in his eyes slowly receding like cooling embers.
With a careless wave of his hand, the shattered stone, the splintered front doors, and ruined chairs flew back into place, knitting themselves together perfectly as if the violence had 'never' happened. The candles flickered back to life, casting a warm, trembling glow over the terrified, silent crowd.
Without a word, Lucifer turned on his heel and walked out into the snow, leaving the suffocating back of the pub behind him.
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, finally able to let Harry go off his shoulder as his knees buckled slightly, "He actually put her through the wall."
"She deserved worse," Hermione said coldly, wiping a stray splash of butterbeer foam off her wrist and looking toward door Lucifer had just vanished through, "Harry, let's go, we're done here."
Lucifer tilted his head back, letting the freezing flakes melt against his overheated skin, then stared up at the dark winter sky, a dark, twisted grin tugging at the corner of his lips, genuinely couldn't wait to see what the 'Daily Prophet' would write about him tomorrow.
But deep within his chest, the warmth of anger didn't fully fade. A heavy, wrath, a monster he had only ever unleashed once before was clawing at the locked doors of his consciousness, fully awake. And for the 'first' time, he felt a cold spike of fear. Without Hermione Granger nearby to keep him 'level-headed,' he might never find his way back to being calm again.
xxxxxx
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